In the sterile calm of the operating room, Dr. Marcus Valencia is celebrated for his precision, his steady hands healing wounds that others deemed impossible. But beneath the surgeon’s blade lies a heart scarred by a past he’s struggled to bury. When he falls in love, a new chapter begins—until a shocking truth slices through, unearthing a dark secret that binds them both to a night of unspeakable horror. Now, Marcus faces an agonizing choice: fulfilling his duty or answering the resounding call for justice, now lying in front of him. With justice resting in his hands, immerse yourself in a novel where the call of duty, the depths of true love, and the burning desire for revenge for family clash in a poignant struggle.
view moreTEN YEARS BEFORE"What would I even do there, Daddy? You can see it, right? My life is here in America. My friends are here," Celeste Montemayor, seventeen years old, replied with a scowl. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest as she slouched in the chair, frustration evident in the way her words escaped her lips. She had tried to make him understand before, but it seemed as though Ismael was determined to overlook her perspective. All her life, Celeste had been surrounded by the comfort and familiarity of her friends and life in the States, and to suddenly uproot herself to a place where she barely felt connected felt like an impossible task. The thought of leaving everything behind—the freedom, the friendships, the life she knew—made her feel trapped in an inescapable situation."That’s exactly why you need to go. You'll learn to be responsible, unlike here where all you do is spend time with your friends and go to parties," Ismael said in a serious tone, his eyes never lea
Just as Ismael had said, it was already afternoon when they rushed Salvador to Manila. The urgency of the situation was evident in the tense atmosphere surrounding them. Ismael, ever the responsible son, chose to accompany Salvador in the ambulance, making sure that his father was in the best possible hands.Meanwhile, Celeste and Eva rode together in the family car, driven by their trusted driver. The vehicle moved swiftly, weaving through the city streets, but despite the motion, a heavy weight settled in Celeste’s chest. The air inside the car was thick with unspoken worries, the soft hum of the engine the only thing filling the silence between them. As they traveled, Celeste’s gaze wandered outside, her eyes catching sight of St. Joseph University through the window. The familiar sight sent a rush of emotions through her, a bittersweet feeling tightening in her chest. The campus held so many memories—some filled with laughter and joy, others tinged with longing and regret.She co
“How is he, Doc?” Ismael asked Dr. Dizon, the doctor attending Salvador. His voice carried a mix of concern and urgency as he awaited an update on his father’s condition.The weight of the situation was evident in his furrowed brows and the way he shifted uneasily. Every passing moment felt heavy, knowing that his father remained in critical condition, confined within the cold walls of the ICU. Ismael knew that time was against them, and he was desperate for any sign of improvement or hope that his father would recover. His father had arrived the previous night, and the family had immediately adjusted their arrangements to ensure that Salvador received the best care possible. Celeste had gone home to the mansion to welcome their father, prioritizing his return, while Eva had taken over her role as their grandfather’s watcher at the hospital.They had worked together, ensuring that someone was always by Salvador’s side. Now, as morning broke, Celeste and Ismael left the mansion early,
Marcus finally had the chance to approach his father before leaving, a moment he had never actively sought but had secretly longed for. For years, he had been content watching from a distance, observing Mario in fleeting glimpses and stolen moments. There was comfort in knowing that his father was improving, that the man who had once been lost in the shadows of his mind was now showing signs of clarity.It had been enough for Marcus to witness this progress without intruding, without forcing a connection that might not be reciprocated. Yet, standing there now, with the opportunity right in front of him, he realized that some part of him had always hoped for a moment like this—to be near his father, to speak to him without the weight of the past overshadowing the present. Inside the room, Mario sat on his bed, resting after the nurse had left him. The door remained slightly open, as if inviting the possibility of a conversation that had been put off for far too long. In the ten years
PRESENT DAY… Once again, Marcus’s heart was weighed down with the heavy burden of regret and longing, all because of that haunting memory. It was as though his mind could never truly escape it. Each day, no matter how much time had passed, he found himself drawn back to that painful moment, reliving it as though it had only happened yesterday. Even though it had been ten years since that fateful event, it felt as though the wound was still fresh, as if the emotional scars were as raw and tender as they had been in the beginning. Time had done little to ease the pain, and no matter how much he tried to move forward, the shadow of the past lingered over him, like an inescapable cloud.The years may have slipped by, but the suffering he and his family endured during that time was so deep and profound that it seemed to engrain itself into his very being. It wasn’t just the loss of security or comfort, but the violent shattering of a life that once seemed so full of promise and stability.
Mario sat in the middle of the grand hall, his face calm yet illuminated by the joy of the moment. The room was adorned with elegant decorations, the warm glow of chandeliers casting soft light over the guests who had gathered to celebrate his milestone. Laughter and chatter filled the air, a symphony of voices blending with the soft music playing in the background. Seventy years of life was no small feat, and despite everything, he was grateful to be surrounded by his friends. Yet, beneath the grandeur of the occasion, there were undercurrents of unspoken emotions—memories that lingered in the minds of those closest to him, shaping the way they saw this day. "Sometimes, I can't help but feel bitter," Marcus admitted, his voice tinged with frustration as he let out a deep sigh. His eyes lingered on his father, who sat at the center of it all, a man who had endured and survived much. "If everything hadn't happened, maybe my father's party would be different today… Not like this."He co
Even though the room was cold, it wasn’t enough to ease the heaviness pressing down on Celeste’s chest. The air carried a stillness so profound that it felt suffocating, wrapping around her like an invisible weight. The silence was deafening, making her acutely aware of every breath she took, every anxious thought racing through her mind. It was as if time itself had slowed, trapping her in this moment of uncertainty. Yet, amidst the quiet, one sound persisted—the steady, rhythmic beeping of the monitor connected to Salvador. It was a fragile melody of life, a mechanical heartbeat that tethered him to the world, and in turn, anchored Celeste to the fragile hope that he would endure. The sound of the monitor was more than just a medical device doing its job; to Celeste, it was a ticking clock, marking each second that her grandfather still clung to life. Every soft beep reassured her that he was still here, still fighting, but at the same time, it served as an ominous warning. If the
Eva’s voice trembled, laced with sorrow and desperation, as she stood beside Celeste, her frail hands clutching each other tightly. Her eyes, brimming with unshed tears, remained fixed on Salvador’s still figure beyond the glass wall of the ICU. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the soft hum of the ventilator were the only signs that life still clung to him, however weakly. Her breath hitched, and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand, as if trying to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. “What are we going to do, hija?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze pleading for an answer Celeste wasn’t sure she had. Celeste hastily wiped at her cheeks, but the tears refused to stop. The ache in her chest felt unbearable, like an invisible dagger had been thrust into her heart, each pulse of pain a cruel reminder of how fragile Salvador’s life had become. It was a struggle to breathe, to think clearly, to keep herself from completely falling apart. But s
As soon as the doctor stepped out of the ER, Celeste and Eva surged forward, their voices overlapping in urgency. “Doc!”The weight of their desperation hung heavy in the air, their breaths uneven as they searched the doctor's face for any sign of hope. But instead of reassurance, they were met with a somber expression—one that sent an icy shiver down Celeste’s spine. She tightened her grip on Eva’s hand, her heart hammering inside her chest, as if bracing for a storm she wasn’t prepared to face. The doctor exhaled sharply before delivering the words that made Celeste’s world tilt on its axis. “The patient’s condition isn’t good.”The bluntness of the statement cut through her like a dagger, leaving her momentarily frozen. Her fingers, which had been gripping the fabric of her blouse, suddenly felt numb, her palms growing cold and clammy. A sinking feeling coiled in her stomach, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to scream, to demand an explanation, but the words lodged themselves
“How is he?” Marcus asked, his voice steady, though a hint of unease betrayed the calm exterior he wore.Deep down, he yearned for a miracle—some reassurance that his father was on the path to recovery, that the man who had once been his guiding light would return to him. His words were weighted with both hope and trepidation, a fragile mix of emotions that only those who loved deeply could understand. “He’s the same as before,” the doctor replied, his tone measured yet tinged with empathy. The words hung in the air like an unspoken acknowledgment of the battle they both knew too well. As if to soften the blow, the doctor placed a comforting hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “But I still haven’t lost hope,” he added with quiet conviction. The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable—a small flame of optimism burning in a sea of uncertainty. Marcus exhaled heavily, the sigh carrying the weight of years spent in limbo. His gaze shifted to a figure sitting beneath the sprawling branches of a l...
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